


Something Missing

by Tibbins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-02 23:09:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12736197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tibbins/pseuds/Tibbins
Summary: Continuation of 13x05. Cas is back and there's a wendigo to Hunt. But something's off, or is Dean imagining things? Destiel





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone!  
> So here's another fic for you. I hope you like it. This one was actually really difficult to write and I'm not 100% sure I've pulled it off.  
> I want to thank everyone reading this, the response to all my latest spn fics has been amazing.  
> Enjoy ^_^

"Sam, Dean," Cas' voice was warm as he stared at them, tears in his eyes. "I wasn't sure you'd come."

"Of course we came, Cas," said Sam after a short pause, Dean couldn't form words, there was a tightness in his throat at the impossibility, he was here, he was really here. Castiel barked a short laugh and strode forward to embrace the elder Winchester, it was a brief second before Dean hugged back, his arms slid around the angel's back, patting him once to make certain he was solid.

Then, Cas pulled back from him with a bright smile and turned to Sam, hugging him with the same relief and joy. Once a quick explanation had been issued, and questions asked on both sides, they piled into the Impala, where Dean sat in the driver's seat, staring straight ahead.

"Uh, Dean?" Sam asked from next to him. Dean shook himself.

"Yeah?"

"Do you want me to drive?"

Dean shot a 'what do you think?' look at his brother and turned the keys in the ignition, revving the engine. Cas chuckled from the backseat and the sound of it felt like home.

The drive back to the bunker was uneventful, even quiet. They talked about nothing in particular and as Dean drove it was like it had never happened, like they had all just come back from a Hunt together, like Cas had never left. Dean didn't know what he had been thinking before, killing himself? How stupid a move was that? Sure, they had gotten some important intel out of it, but he felt the need to apologise to Sam as soon as they got a moment alone all the same. For now, he was content just to drive, the three of them in the car, music turned low, the rumble of the engine mingled with the sound of Castiel's voice as he asked about Jack and Dean thought that it was the best thing he had heard in a long time. It was like a purr deep in his chest, warm and comforting and everything just felt  _right_ , Dean couldn't stop his lips tugging upwards of their own accord, eyes half-squinting in the harsh neon lights of a town.

 

 

***

 

Jack seemed to know Castiel before he had even introduced himself, he was on his feet and in his arms before Cas had even so much as greeted the kid. Castiel's arms wrapped around him, a confused frown on his face, though there was a gentle gleam in his eye that told Dean he was pleased at the development. Dean had to admit, they looked good together, like a family all their own. It almost reminded him of himself and Sam, when Sam was short enough to be held like that. Sam caught his eye and grinned softly, he seemed to know what Dean was thinking. Dean turned away, rolling his eyes. He made his way over to the fridge to grab four beers, then passed them out while they all sat around the table.

"To Cas," he said, raising his own beer, "welcome home, buddy."

"Thank you, Dean," Cas said, clinking beers with Jack, then Dean, then Sam. "I'm very glad to be back amongst friends."

Dean sat back in his chair and drank his beer. He didn't rush it, there was no need. One beer was enough, he might as well savour it.

"So, what was the Empty like, Cas?" He asked, wanting to hear more about the creature Cas had mentioned before.

"There wasn't very much there," Cas responded solemnly. Sam choked on his beer. Dean rolled his eyes.

"What about that thing that looked like you?"

"Yes, that was… unpleasant. It looked through my memories and tried to torture me with them, as if I hadn't already been perfectly candid about why I needed to return."

"That son of a bitch," Dean said sympathetically. Reaching out to clap Cas on the shoulder. "I'm sorry, man."

"You have nothing to apologise for," Cas said kindly, meeting his eyes. Dean blinked, frowned and looked away. That was weird. He shook himself.  _Just imagining things_ , he thought. It had been a pretty eventful day after all, and not just for him. He probably just needed sleep, and Cas could probably use a recharge of his angel mojo too, however he did that. They sat up for a while longer, talking, until Sam, who had noticed Jack yawn four times in in a row, sent him, protesting mildly, to bed. He excused himself too and bid them goodnight.

The angel sipped his beer. It was only three quarters of the way empty. Dean hid a smile and then cleared his throat. Cas looked up at him. Dean, met his eyes and was again confused by what he saw. They were the same blue, full of the same depth, endless patience, understanding and fondness but there was something… different. He couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"Are you okay, Cas?"

Cas tilted his head,

"Yes. Why do you ask?"

"I dunno, you just seem a little… Are you sure you're okay. Not traumatised at all?"

The angel raised an eyebrow.

"Traumatised?"

"Yeah, I mean, you came back from the dead, man,"

"Not for the first time," Cas pointed out, "though admittedly, I was a little more… active in that process than usual," he looked pointedly at Dean, "are you alright?"

"Yeah," Dean said, waving away the angel's concern, "yeah, I guess I'm just, you know, tired or something."

"You should go to bed," the angel said, "good night. I'll see you in the morning."

"Yeah," Dean stood and headed towards his room, but stopped in the doorway, "Cas?"

"Yes, Dean?"

"I – err – It's good to have you back. We, I mean,  _I_ , was a pretty big mess without you. I know I've made you promise before but… just don't do that again, man. Please."

Cas raised the beer bottle towards him and nodded.

"I shall certainly endeavour not to."

"Right. Night, Cas."

"Goodnight, Dean."

Dean left the room and spent a few sleepless hours trying to figure out exactly what had been wrong with that exchange.

 

***

 

_Dean Winchester screamed. Alistair was back, it must be morning, or whatever passed for morning in this timeless void of horror. Alistair whispered in his ear, the usual offer. Dean was shaking, screaming, cursing, as Alistair got out his instruments and began to use them, at times it was surgical and precise, slicing directly into his nerves, other times he seemed to lose himself in the bloodlust and used his nails to gouge great chunks of his flesh, all the while whispering sweet promises, how he could make it stop, how he would never feel like this again, all he had to do was give in and the pain would stop, but for now he screamed so prettily, and would he do that again for him? No? Not even now? There, good boy, there's my good boy, what a lovely scream._

_But even worse than the pain, even worse than feeling his guts fall out of him, than watching his blood spray in ways that never would have been possible on Earth, worse than that was the crushing knowledge that he couldn't take this anymore, that he couldn't keep swearing and spitting insults. His fight was almost gone. But he knew that he would give in soon. Just one more day, just one more day, I can do this for one more day. It's only pain I'm used to the pain, I don't have to feel it, just block it out. But there was no blocking it out. That was the true torment of Hell, no matter how long you were there for, no matter how much you endured, no matter how many times they would rip you apart and stitch you back together, you felt every second, there was no getting used to it, it was always worse the next day. It had been thirty years. Thirty years of worse days. Dean sagged in his chains while Alistair crooned and carved, his eyes alight with fiery joy._

_"Please," Dean whimpered, "please make it stop. I'll do what you want. I'll do anything, just make it stop."_

"Dean,"

_"Please just stop,"_

"Dean!"

Dean woke, sweating, Sam was there, shaking his shoulder.

"Sam," his voice was cracked, parched. His throat raw.

"Hey, it's okay, I've got you. It was just a dream."

"Sammy, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,"

"You're okay, it's okay, you're not there anymore, you're home, you're home, you're okay." Sam pulled his brother towards him. Dean leaned into it for a few seconds, then pushed away, his brain reorienting.

"I'm good," he said, "I'm good."

He sat back, feeling faintly sick. He hadn't dreamt of Hell in a long time, at least not so vividly. He could still feel the edge of Alistair's scalpel slicing down his ribs, parting skin, then muscle. He grabbed his side as if to hold himself together and shuddered.

Cas appeared in the doorway then, he looked concerned.

"I brought you some water," he said, placing it on the table, "you were screaming very loudly, I sent Jack back to bed,"

"Thanks," Dean said, gulping down the water and holding the cool glass to his head. His sweat was chilling on him now but his head still felt too warm. Cas reached forward and pressed a hand to his forehead for half a second.

"I don't think you have a fever," he said.

"Dean?" Sam's eyes were imploring, willing him to talk.

"No," Dean said, glancing at Cas and then away again, "no, I'm fine. I – I'm sorry. I think I'm gonna go take a shower."

Sam nodded and stood, a worried crease between his eyes. Dean couldn't stand it, that face, that concern. Now that the fear had receded he was consumed by shame. Hell had been a long time ago, he was over it; he could joke about it, he could think about it, he could remember it, though he didn't much like to. He'd worked through that wound. He'd had other nightmares since, other pain to process. But now? There was no big bad, Lucifer was gone, he had nothing to worry about. So why did his stomach feel like it had been put in a blender?

He shoved past Cas on his way to the bathroom and turned the shower on, letting the steam build. He breathed it in, calming himself.

When he finally emerged from the shower, water dripping onto the mat, he felt better. The bone-deep chill had gone, and though his mind was still racing, his legs were steady as he returned to his room to dress. Sam and Cas were both gone, but there was a smell of breakfast wafting through the hall, bacon and pancake batter. Dean's stomach gurgled, but not unpleasantly. Food would be welcome.

Jack eyed him nervously as he walked into the kitchen, turning away quickly to talk to Cas. Sam gave him a small smile from the hob, flipping a pancake. Dean sat.

"You were screaming," Jack said. Sam slid a plate over to him, possibly a subtle hint to get the kid to shut up. But Dean didn't have the energy to be angry.

"Yeah, sorry about that. Just a bad dream."

"It must've been really bad," Jack continued. "I thought I heard you begging, for something to stop."

Dean grunted.

"I don't really wanna talk about it, kid," he said, a little sharper than he had intended. Jack put his head down immediately and began to eat.

"Go easy," Cas said gently, Dean wasn't sure who he was talking to, to he said nothing, focussing on his own food when Sam placed it in front of him.

"Thanks, Sammy," he said gratefully. The bacon pancakes helped, and by the time he had finished, the nightmare itself bothered him less than his reaction to it. When he was done eating, Cas offered to do the washing up and whisked his and Jack's plates away before they could protest. Dean cast a hand down his face, yawning. It was early, too early for breakfast really, but too late to go back to sleep. "I'mma go look for a case," he said, standing, "we could use something to do."

Sam nodded to him, Jack didn't look up and Cas gave a half-smile as Dean once again left the room. He couldn't help the feeling that they were going to start whispering about him. _Stupid_ , he thought  _they're not high school girls_. He shook off his paranoia but was glad all the same when he shut his bedroom door behind him.

The first thing he did was change the sheets on his bed. Dean always did this after a nightmare, there was nothing worse than the cold damp of a feverish sweat the night before to remind you of the crippling fear you had barely escaped from. Then, he settled himself on his fresh sheets and got out his laptop, searching for any of the tell-tale signs of any unusual activity.

There wasn't much. A murder in Wisconsin, the murderer swearing up and down that he didn't do it, he wasn't in control. It could have been a demon, if not for the dozen witnesses, none of whom mentioned black eyes or a strange smoke coming from the murderer's mouth. There had been what appeared to be a beast attack, but after hacking into the morgue report, Dean thought it more likely to have been a mountain lion than a werewolf, the heart was still there, just not quite intact.

After an hour or so of dead end after dead end, Dean sighed and closed those pages, instead, getting up a Metallica playlist on youtube. He wasn't really sure what to do with himself for the rest of the day. Maybe he could go hang out with Cas. The angel had a calming presence when he himself was relaxed and Dean could use a little of that right now. Plus, Cas usually knew the right things to say, or not say, even when his brother didn't. So Dean admitted defeat on the case and left the room, hunting instead for his angelic friend.

He found Sam in the library, who asked him if he'd had any luck. Dean shook his head,

"You seen Cas?" he asked.

"Sure, he and Jack went to one of the rec rooms to talk some stuff out."

"Like what?"

Sam raised an eyebrow.

"I dunno, Dean, maybe the kid wants to know about his mom, maybe he wants to know more about Cas or weird angelic powers, take your pick."

"Whatever," said Dean, thumping down into a chair near his brother.

"Are you alright now?"

Dean snorted.

"I haven't seen you like that since-"

"Yeah, what do you want me to say, Sam? It was a nightmare, we've all had 'em. Us more than most people I'd bet."

"Dean, you looked like you were in real pain,"

"It's always real until you wake up. I don't get why you're so bothered by this, it was a nightmare, Sam, a one off, I'll have another one the next time a big bad shows up, and so will you. We both have crap floating around in our heads."

"I guess. I just thought that now we have Cas back, we might have less reason to be focussing on the bad stuff. I mean, aren't we entitled to enjoy the win?"

Because a win it was. It was exactly the win that Dean had needed, it was what he had prayed for, what he had hoped for. Cas was back. So why didn't it feel real?

"We've faced worse than dreams, Sam. It's still a win." It would be true. It would, he was just… overwhelmed. It was stupid but he had gone from suicidal to overjoyed in a matter of minutes and his brain was still spinning. The nagging in the back of his mind could shut the hell up, he just needed some time to really process everything that had happened, that was all it was. "He's really back, isn't he?" Dean said, a slow grin spreading on his face. His brother looked at him, looking both amused and unsurprised at whatever he found there.

"Yeah," Sam said softly, "yeah, he is."

 

_***_

 

Dean slept better that second night, then worse the third, over the course of the next week his rest was sporadic, interrupted by strange images and an empty void and memories he had thought long buried, but he always managed to force himself awake before the screaming started.

On the week after Cas had come back, he had another quick search for a case and actually found something promising.

"Four people missing in Michigan," he said triumphantly, slamming the laptop on the table as he walked in, ready for breakfast.

"Is that a good thing?" Jack asked, his eyes darting to Castiel.

"No," the angel replied.

"Definitely not," said Dean, smiling. "I did some digging and around fourteen years ago, there were sixteen missing persons cases filed, all for the same area, only a couple of the bodies were ever found and they were torn up bad, so of course they put it down to a bear attack." Dean rolled his eyes.

"Wendigo?" Sam asked.

"Wendigo," Dean confirmed. "I'll get the blowtorch."

He grabbed a piece of toast from Sam's plate on the way out, ignoring the squawk of protest. He ate it in four bites as he headed out to the car and popped Baby's trunk, chewing as he searched the inside. They could use more lighter fluid, they'd have to get some on the way. The blowtorch wasn't in there, as he'd thought, but a flare gun was. Might be worth it to get a second one. If there were going to be four of them out there, and Jack still not completely in control of his powers, might as well arm the kid up right. Wendigos were bad sons of bitches. Dean was always antsy at the prospect as much as he could use a good old fashioned monster hunt. He was so tired of the  _human_  aspect creeping in; vamps that didn't kill,  _Garth_  a werewolf, friendly ghosts and half-friendly demons, it made his head hurt, not least because of the knowledge of the sheer  _amount_  of those things he had killed, not all of them had to have been as evil as he had once believed. But a wendigo? Definite monster, irredeemable killer. No second thoughts necessary. As dangerous as they were, Dean needed this.

 _Just like you needed Cas back,_  he thought, _don't push your luck._  Dean slammed down the trunk and jumped as he turned around. Cas stood there, a few feet away, watching him.

"Jeez Cas, don't sneak up on me like that."

"My apologies. I was just wondering whether or not I was needed on this Hunt." Cas didn't walk closer, he just tilted his head.

"Err," said Dean, taken-aback, "well, not  _needed,_ me and Sam can handle it if you don't wanna come."

"I am unsure if Jack is ready." Cas said, glancing back at the bunker door, "and I wouldn't want to leave him alone."

Dean pressed his lips together and nodded.

"I mean, I kinda thought that we could  _all_  go. Figured it might be nice to get out of the bunker for a bit, I'm going a bit stir crazy. You could always bring Jack and you and he could stay out of it if you wanted. But, you know man, I get it, if you'd rather stay here. I mean, it's not like you've had much of a chance to settle back in."

Castiel considered for a long moment, then he nodded, "alright. I'll talk to Jack. I would like to go on a Hunt again. I've missed it."

"Yeah," Dean said, "Well, it'll be good for us. Maybe actually save some people while we're there."

"Sounds like a plan."

They both grinned at each other, eyes meeting. Once again, something felt different. Not off, exactly, and it wasn't trauma either, Dean was no stranger to  _that_  look. But it was different to how he remembered it. Something had shifted in Cas' eyes, and it was going to bug Dean until he figured out what it was.

"You sure you're okay?" It was stupid to ask, there was nothing  _wrong_ , there wasn't anything in Cas' eyes he hadn't seen before. Fondness, amusement, confusion, even a touch of concern.

"Dean, we've faced down Lucifer, I think we can deal with a wendigo," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Right," said Dean, looking away. Trying not to think about how facing down Lucifer had gone for them last time, "we got this."

 

_***_

 

Twelve hours later, Dean pulled into a motel parking lot. Jack had fallen asleep around hour seven, his head lolling on Cas' shoulder. Sam had taken a power nap between hours five and nine, but he had perked up since they stopped for coffee and food at the halfway point. Cas had, of course, been awake the entire time. Dean's own eyes were itching but he parked Baby smoothly and went in to get them rooms. He got three rooms as a last-minute decision, making sure the third was on the other side of the motel to the other two. Despite there being plenty of space. Sam had huffed at the unnecessary expense when Dean had come back with the keys, but Dean insisted that he'd had enough of listening to Sam snore for one night. Cas decided to share with Jack, but offered to go and case out the nearby state park for any signs of the wendigo as he wouldn't actually need the spare bed in any case. Both Sam and Dean insisted he stay at the motel.

"We don't hunt wendigos at night," Dean said, running a hand through his hair, exasperated by the look of 'don't patronise me' on the angel's face, Sam stepped in,

"Look, Cas, it's not that we don't think you're more than a match for the thing-"

"-but we don't  _know_  that you are." Dean finished. "We've never hunted one of these with you before, we don't know how you match up strength-wise. Maybe you can take it easy, but I'm not taking chances, you hear?"

Cas set his jaw but met his eyes and nodded, then he and Jack headed to their room. Sam looked after them, then back to Dean.

"He won't do anything stupid," he said, "I doubt Jack would let him if he tried."

"Oh, sure, well  _that's_  comforting." Dean rolled his eyes, staring in the direction the angel had gone. Cas seemed normal, he was  _acting_  normal, he was his usual self and nothing was out of the ordinary, but there had been two hours when only he and Dean had been awake. They had talked about possible plans, Dean had caught Cas up on a bit of Wendigo lore, Cas had commented that Dean looked tired and had offered to drive for a while and it was all just so… usual. Nothing about that exchange stood out to him, nothing even hinted that anything was different. Except that it was.

Sam pushed him gently on the shoulder and told him to get some sleep, apparently,  _he_  thought that Dean looked tired too. He headed in the same direction Cas had gone, their rooms were next to each other after all. Then, Dean spun on his heel and headed the other way. He had claimed there were no other vacancies, but only Jack had seemed to accept this, Cas had squinted at him and Sam had glanced pointedly around the empty parking lot.

Dean collapsed onto the bed as soon as he locked the door behind him. He  _did_  need to sleep, he knew, but he still jerked away from it, still fought to stay awake, despite his stinging eyes and the fact that no one would hear him if he screamed.

 

***

 

_Dean tore through the flesh of another soul and laughed at its screams. He tasted the blood that splattered onto his lips and grinned maniacally. This was fun. This was so much more fun than worse days. Alistair was actually tutoring him now, showing him exactly how he did what he did and all the best ways to extract all those delightful little noises. The best ways to do his job. How to make each day different, just ever so slightly worse. He could do this for eternity, he could-_

No

_Dean opened the soul's sternum and started cracking ribs. He liked doing that, he liked the sound it made, a clean snap, unless he twisted, then there was some fun grinding, and of course, the screams. He'd been doing this for ten years now. He still had much to learn. Alistair kept telling him how good he had become, how he had learned so well. Dean sucked up his praise like oxygen, but Alistair still scared him, he still had tricks he was reserving from Dean and Dean wanted to earn them._

_Something felt different today. But nothing was. He had a feeling in the pit of his stomach that something was going to happen, something terrifying, something exciting, something unforgettable._

_Alistair came to him between souls to give him notes on his technique. He had improved so much, Alistair said, he was very proud. He smiled as he said so, and every time Alistair smiled like that, Dean felt snakes writing in his guts._

_"You've done so well, Dean," Alistair murmured, "but let me show you how it's really done. Here, let's compare, shall we?"_

_Dean nodded mutely as Alistair led him to the rack and tied him on. This was how he learned. He did it right or he experienced it both ways._

_It was definitely interesting. The screams and whimpers Dean made always managed to ramp up a notch when Alistair did the comparison. Not that Dean's technique wasn't bad, but Alistair's was_ worse _, the pain it caused was completely different and Dean was proud that he could differentiate between the two. So, a new twist of the knife it was, notching the bone, just on the nerve, exquisite, beautiful, torturous. Dean was re-made and Alistair helped him off the rack._

_"Do you understand now?" He asked, eyes glittering._

_Dean grinned at him, blood in his mouth._

_"Yes," he said, "I think I do,"_

_He started work on another soul immediately, those screams, they were musical, much better that the ones his previous technique had gotten him. He revelled in them, almost dancing around the soul as he hacked and carved and sliced and tore._

_Once he had finished, Alistair came to him once more, clapping his hands, praising him, gripping him hard by the shoulders and pressing his mouth to Dean's. It was usual. But as Alistair led him away, Dean couldn't help but think that something should have happened today. Something new._

 

***

 

Dean jolted upright, the screams dying in his throat. He had actually voiced them this time. Not that that was surprising. His dreams of Hell were always the worst, no matter what else came after, the nightmares of his brother falling into the pit, Cas walking into that river, Purgatory, the Mark of Cain, his time as a demon, nothing compared. Nothing even came close to the terror that his old nightmare of Hell could conjure. But that particular one had been… particularly unpleasant. Especially knowing now that the thing he was so sure was going to happen would have been Cas coming to save him. Not that he really remembered that. He could remember every single moment of those forty years in Hell, every second, except for those last few.

It was still dark outside, the digital clock read 3:27am. He'd been asleep for three hours. That was good enough he supposed. He could Hunt on that. Besides, it's not as though he could get back to sleep if he tried. Not that he would. He flung the covers back, just as a loud knock came on his door. He yawned and stumbled over to it, yanking it open, it was Cas.

"What's wrong?" the angel asked, immediately scanning the room for danger, stepping inside and going to check the bathroom too.

"What? Nothing, I just woke up. Why are you here?"

"You prayed for me. It sounded urgent." Castiel frowned, satisfied that the wendigo wasn't hiding in the shower.

"Oh," Dean rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed, "Cas, really, it's nothing to worry about. I'm sorry I bothered you, it was just a bad dream."

Cas folded his arms.

"You've been having a lot of those recently. You look exhausted."

"Yeah, well, me and nightmares are old friends, wouldn't be right if they didn't come for a visit every once in a while."

"Are you sure there's nothing else? Your prayer sounded… well, I was worried."

"Yeah, I'm good. What about you, Cas? Are you good?"

"I'm good," replied the angel, eyes narrowed in suspicion, "you've been… concerned about me since I got back. Why?"

"I dunno, you just seem a little… different, is all. I thought maybe something happened to you out there."

"I don't feel any different," Cas said, glancing down at himself, "perhaps it just seems that way because we now have Jack and nothing is exactly the same," he smiled.

And that was it. It finally clicked. There wasn't something new in Cas' eyes, it was the  _lack_  of something. Something that Dean had gotten so used to, just accepted it as a part of the angel's personality. The way that Cas was keeping a natural boundary between them, the lack of physical contact, the briefness of their hug, and the look in his eyes, that shift. Cas looked at him differently now. He still looked at him like a friend, yes, like he cared for him, yes. But it was different.

 _He looks at me the same way he looks at Sam_  Dean realised, why did that bother him so much?

 

_***_

_"Dean and I do share a more profound bond"_   _the angel said, shrugging apologetically and glancing between the two brothers "I wasn't going to mention it."_

_***_

 

That was it. That 'profound bond', the thing that had made Dean and Cas  _best_  friends, the lack of personal space, the intensity in every conversation, the understanding between them. That was gone.

Dean didn't think, he slammed the angel into the wall, arm at his throat,

"Dean, what-?"

"What did he do to you?" Dean demanded, "what did that thing  _do_?"

"Dean, stop!"

Dean paused, then took a step back, letting the angel drop. Cas straightened up, brushing off his coat.

"I told you what happened in the Empty," Cas said, impatiently. "He looked through my memories, he threatened me, he complained about wanting to sleep, but that's  _all_ , that's  _it_. I have no gaps in my memories and nothing new. I have no heightened aggression, no ill effects at all. There's nothing wrong with  _me_ , Dean."

Dean stepped back and sank onto the bed. Everything he had just been so certain of was thrown into doubt. Maybe he was imagining things, maybe he'd been imagining things for years, maybe he was only now seeing the truth. He wasn't special, Cas wouldn't look at him like that, he'd never looked at him like that in the first place. Nothing was  _gone_ , it had just never been there. He was tired, he was so tired, it felt like an anvil had been placed on his head, slowly crushing him. The joy of having Cas back had placed stupid ideas in his head, idealistic visions, where he and Cas had had much more than mere friendship. They had been indefinable, unique. The truth was that the angel cared about them both equally. There was nothing  _wrong_  with that, he was ashamed to even think that there was.

"You're right," he whispered, head in his hands, "you're right, it's me."

Cas sighed and then sat next to him on the bed. He placed a hand on Dean's shoulder, the calming presence only slightly settling the turmoil going on inside of him.

"Dean, you've barely slept, you're exhausted and you're paranoid. Maybe you should stay here with Jack and get some rest, me and Sam can handle the wendigo."

"No," Dean said, standing, letting the angel's arm fall away. "I'm good. I just realised something. I've been acting really stupid, I'm sorry. I just… I'm gonna shower, okay? I'll come over to you and Sam in a couple of hours and we can work out a plan."

"Alright." Cas stood, seeing that he wouldn't be dissuaded. "In a couple of hours then," Cas headed towards the door but Dean called him back last second,

"Cas?"

He turned.

"Are you happy? With being back, with Jack, the bunker, with us? Everything?" Dean knew it was stupid, but he had to ask.

"I enjoy my life, Dean," Cas said, not commenting on the unusual phrasing of the question, seeming to sense that Dean was not in the mood to be mocked, "as hard as it can be, I know that we are doing good. And I'm surrounded by friends who care about me and who I care about. Yes, I'm happy."

Dean breathed out a sigh, and nodded, deciding in that moment to let it go, to stop obsessing over every minute difference he invented. He went into the bathroom and emerged twenty minutes later with a new resolve.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's the second chapter, I'm really knee deep in this thing now.
> 
> Enjoy ^_^

"No guide?" Sam was incredulous,

"No guide," Dean insisted, "the last thing we need is anyone else out in that park. Look, we've got those CDC badges, we can claim it's a rabid bear, like they said and we just need to make sure the infection's not gonna spread to the population or whatever, and that we need to close the place to the public 'till we're done."

"That's insane! We don't know these woods, we don't know whereabouts those people disappeared. We need to talk to the local sheriff at least."

"Sam," Dean slid a hand down his face, "wendigos are insanely fast, okay? It can get from one side of the forest to the other in a matter of minutes, its lair could be anywhere, it doesn't matter where it killed."

"Except that where it killed could have clues to where its taken the victims. They might not even be dead yet, we can't waste time blundering around the woods."

"Fine. We can get directions to that last camp site. But directions  _only_ , Sam, we are not bringing a civilian into this."

Sam threw up his hands,

"What if we get lost? If you wanna spend days trapped in a forest with a hungry wendigo, be my guest, but-"

"I have a very good sense of direction." Cas interrupted. "We won't get lost."

Dean gestured to Cas with a 'see?!' motion. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Fine. But if this goes wrong, I'm blaming you." He turned to Jack, "are you sure you wanna come along?"

Jack nodded. "It can't kill me."

"Yeah," Dean snorted, "I don't think that's what he's worried about."

Sam glared at Dean.

"Let's just go talk to the sheriff, then we can get a map of the park and mark out all the places the victims were found, maybe pinpoint a centre."

 

_***_

 

Two hours and several bad lies later (Sam had introduced Jack as an intern and Jack had immediately requested a definition of the word), they pulled into the dirt parking lot, which had indeed been closed to the public, and set off, packs full. Dean had been left with the blowtorch. He had been desperate to bring the flamethrower along but Sam had thrown a fit, saying that he'd burn down half the forest. The blowtorch wasn't the best choice really. It would be useful in a pinch but its range was short he placated himself with an extra can of lighter fluid so if he could douse the creature in that first, the rest would be easy peasy, nice and crispy. Sam had pressed one of the flare guns on Jack, taking the other for himself, and Cas was content with his angel blade, until Dean insisted otherwise. He now had a Molotov and a spare lighter in his pocket. It wasn't much, but still, he grumbled.

"It's not a demon, Cas," Dean said, "you can't just smite the thing."

"It's a corporeal creature, my blade should be sufficient."

"Fire first," Dean said, pointing with a finger, "stab later." The angel rolled his eyes so hard he almost spun around entirely. Dean smirked. They followed the map Sam had negotiated and he had already drawn a bunch of X's where the bodies had been found. The most recent missing people had been a middle aged married couple, wanting to spend a few nights under the stars without their teenage kids ruining their anniversary. They had forgone talking to the family. A wendigo didn't have a motive beyond feeding.

"Okay, so it should take us a couple of hours to get to the camp site. So… if we push to get there before noon we should have plenty of time to hunt this thing down before it comes out to hunt us." Sam traced the map with his finger while they walked, striding ahead with Cas due to Sam's gangly legs and Cas' lack of human fatigue, "all the victims are pretty spread out, so it's likely the wendigo will be somewhere in the middle," he tapped at the paper.

Dean said nothing, he wasn't really convinced. Wendigos made him nervous. Not like witches did, he straight up hated hunting witches. But there was a respect here that wan't present with people just using bodily fluids to make gross things happen. The wendigo was the apex predator here, and that deserved some respect, especially at night. He wasn't going to let his guard down.

 

_***_

 

They reached the campsite just before noon, though Jack was puffing like a steam train. He wasn't exactly used to this kind of strenuous activity but he bore up pretty good and pushed himself on. Every so often, Cas would drop back to check on him, and Dean, although he didn't say it. And judging by Sam's worried glances back at them, Dean could only assume that Cas had told Sam what had happened that morning. It was a slightly cool day, which was pleasant when they were all (except Cas) sweating profusely as they finally stepped into the campsite. Sam immediately went to inspect the tent while Dean searched the ground for a blood trail. Jack wandered over to ask Sam some questions and Cas just stood at the edge of the clearing, alert. They kept their packs on, they had learned since last time. Dean found some interesting looking spatter and gestured the others over, the four of them following the trail until it ended abruptly.

"Trees, meet back at the camp in an hour. Draw the symbols." Dean said, sending Cas and Sam off in one direction with a nod. Jack stayed with him, almost standing on his heels. "Eyes up," he told the kid, "these things are fast. It might not be up and about yet but you never know."

Jack nodded solemnly and craned his neck around him. Dean hoped that the kid had good eyes. He himself searched around at eye level, peering at the brush for any sign of movement. The blood trail had vanished, but there were no bodies. They must have been stashed somewhere, maybe nearby. Dean advanced slowly, keeping an awareness for the kid at his back. Suddenly, a rustle of leaves, and Dean jumped, hand going for the blowtorch. But there was no blur of movement, nothing to aim at. If it was there, it was watching them, but didn't seem inclined to attack just yet. But if it was here in the middle of the day then its lair couldn't be far. He and Jack marked the area with spray paint on a couple of the trees before prodding around a bit more. Dean hissed for Jack to keep close as they crept forward. He was being overly cautious perhaps, but he didn't really care. Sam and Cas would both kill him if the wendigo got a hold of Jack, despite his ability to heal instantly and probably vaporise the thing. After a while of searching, Dean noticed a small overhang of leaves that didn't sit quite naturally with the surrounding brush. It seemed to be covering a rocky outcrop.

 _Cave_ , Dean thought as he approached. He wished the other two were here, the kid didn't quite have a hunting style other than 'hoping for the best' or 'explosion' and he would much rather put his back to someone he knew he could fight with. He sent a quick prayer to Cas, sending him a quick rundown of where they were and what he was seeing. Not for the first time, he wished that the prayer thing could work both ways. It would be far more useful than a cell phone, but then Cas would have to give up his beloved emoticons. He hid a smile and almost sent Cas an image of an eggplant, just to mess with him. But then he remembered that Cas probably wouldn't find it funny. Dean slipped inside the cave on the balls of his feet, motioning for Jack to do the same. Jack seemed nervous, twitchy, but Dean couldn't turn back now and Dean didn't want the kid running off on his own if the wendigo was in face awake and watching them. The smell hit them as they rounded a corner further in, of rotting meat and blood and earth. Jack gagged and fell back, breathing heavily. Dean motioned for him to be quiet, impatient. He didn't have the luxury of coddling the kid. Dean pulled out his lighter fluid and blowtorch and waited until his eyes adjusted to the gloom. There appeared to be a heap by one of the walls. Dean slid across to it, keeping his back to the rock. Jack followed suit, but Dean was pleased to see that he looked ridiculous while doing so.

The heap turned out to be a pile of corpses, both fresh and foul, rotting in the corner. Dean turned away, stomach heaving. Jack peered over Dean's shoulder and let out a sharp intake of breath, gagging again and spinning around to throw up noisily. The new stench only added to Dean's discomfort, as did the noise. He heard a rumble and pushed Jack behind him into the wall, switching out the blowtorch for the flare gun the kid had in his pocket. He aimed it at the pale figure that emerged from underneath a camouflage of dead sticks. Quick as lightning, Dean pulled the trigger, but the creature was faster, knocking his arm aside, sending the flare wide, into the pile of bodies, which began to sizzle and spit, with the other hand, the wendigo raked Dean deep across the chest, flinging him away from Jack with an inhuman screech that set his teeth on edge. Dean cried out, blood spurting up from his torso, but he scrambled to sit up, the wendigo seemed to be considering Jack, not quite attacking, but still not friendly. Dean fumbled for the blowtorch in his pocket, hands slippery with blood. He managed to turn it on, though the flame was dim it was loud and the wendigo turned on him again.

"Come here you son of a-" his sentence ended in a scream of pain as the wendigo was on him, ripping at his chest. Dean lifted the blowtorch towards the creature's face but again it knocked his hand aside, and the blowtorch skittered across the stone, useless. His flesh ripped and his bones shattered under the powerful claws.

 _Come get your kid, Cas._ Dean thought,  _I'm sorry I-_

 

_***_

 

Dean blinked.

"Back so soon?"

Dean spun to find Billie, hand on her scythe, staring at him, leaning against one of the bookshelves.  _His_  bookshelf.

Dean looked around, re-affirming to himself that he was exactly where he had thought.

"Huh. Don't suppose it says anything in any of those books about me not dying today either?"

"There are very few days that these books say you can't die, Dean Winchester." Billie said with a sigh, "and yet you insist on dying on all of them. You must be great at monopoly."

"So… I get to go back?"

Billie cocked her head. "Do you  _want_  to go back now?"

"Does it matter?"

"No," Billie set her scythe carefully against the wall, "but I am curious. What could have changed your mind I wonder? Could it possibly be that Castiel returned from the Empty? How exactly did that happen? No one wakes up in the Empty. I can assure you, the Entity that lives there was quite… irate."

"Good. I hope Cas gave him Hell."

"He did. Tell me how he woke up."

Dean shrugged. "I was as surprised as you were,"

Billie smiled, it was a sarcastic thing but not without true humour, "I'll bet, it kind of put paid to your suicide attempt, didn't it?"

Dean huffed. Then he considered. He had an opportunity here.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Billie's eyebrow quirked,

"Another one?"

"What did that thing do to Cas? In the Empty."

Billie's smile widened, "so he's different now, is he? Interesting. I did wonder how the Entity would change him. He's always been a petty thing."

"You don't know?"

"Tell you what," Billie said, "I still don't like you, Dean. You're important, but I don't care about your wellbeing or your mental health as long as you can still do your job and I'm not adverse to annoying the Entity if I get the chance. Also, I have a hunch, so if I summon the Entity here, you can ask him yourself and I get to watch. It's a win-win for me. Do we have a deal?"

"Will you tell me about my mom?"

Billie rolled her eyes, "don't push your luck, Dean. Do you want to meet the Entity or not?"

Dean only hesitated a fraction of a second. He had promised himself he'd put this to bed, he'd promised he'd leave it alone.

"Yeah. I do."

"Great."

Billie's eyes went vacant for a moment, then she blinked and nodded, gliding to sit behind her desk, fingers clasped expectantly, as though waiting for a theatre production to start. Dean looked around nervously for a few seconds, then, a spot on the floor seemed to liquidate and build to form a humanoid shape. It melted into more specific features and Castiel stood there, except it wasn't Cas, not even close. It had his face, but it was twisted into something unrecognisable.

"What?" It moaned, facing Billie immediately in a strangely slanted accent that sounded weird coming from that mouth, "what do you want? I was sleeping!"

"You're always sleeping." Billie responded with disdain, "this human has a question for you,"

"Are you kidding me?" The Entity said, it was almost a screech, "Hmm? You summon me here, you  _wake me up_  because a  _human_ \- Ohhhhh,"

He had spun on his heel to turn to Dean, his hands that had been flapping around emphatically fell to his sides. Then he laughed, it was a whole body laugh, his head thrown back, his back arched to the point of breaking and he shrieked his laughter. Dean took an involuntary step back.

"You're  _that one_ " The Entity gasped, between fits of mirth. He swung his head back at Billie, "he's dead?"

"Temporarily."

"Ugh, well  _that's_ disappointing." The Entity's grin faded a little. He walked around Dean in a circle, inspecting him. "Yes, makes sense, I suppose. Though I daresay Castiel will be pleased." He actually stuck his tongue out.

"Uh, look, Bizarro, you did something to Cas when you sent him back. I want you to fix it."

"Did you figure out what it  _was_  that I did exactly?" The Entity said, still pacing. Dean was getting dizzy trying to keep his eyes on him, so he stopped, and so did the thing.

Dean hesitated. How could he describe it?

"You took something," Dean said, "and now he's different,"

"Hmm, I did, and he is." The thing said, meeting his eyes; a sea of nothing those eyes were, as cold and isolated as a lighthouse, and this one had a broken bulb. "But what? How? I need you to say it, Dean."

Dean glanced at Billie who was smirking maliciously from behind her desk. Dean shifted his weight, clenched his fists and then relaxed them, only to clench them again.

"Say it."

"Our bond." Dean said, a hot flush creeping up his neck, "you took our friggin' bond. Make it right." The Entity's grin widened, and Billie let out a sharp cackle.

"Close," the thing said teasingly, "but not quite. You're still friends, aren't you? You still talk, you still get along."

"He looks at me different."

Dean wanted to punch something, he wanted to punch the thing standing in front of him in particular but he held himself back. This thing wouldn't be threatened with a solid right hook.

"Is that bad?"

Dean's jaw clenched at the mocking tone. No, it wasn't bad. Not really. It wasn't like Cas was in constant pain or didn't remember him or Sam at all or anything. He just… looked at him different. Why was his chest squeezing like that at the thought?

"Yes."

"Why?" The Entity cocked it's head, eyes glittering with that same malice that reminded him suddenly, forcefully of Alistair, "is he unhappy?"

Dean bit his lip.

"No," said Billie from behind her desk, in that annoyingly superior way she had, "but  _you_  are. It's making you miserable, isn't it? Knowing that something's changed when no one else does. Knowing he doesn't care that your, ahem,  _bond_ , is missing."

The entity grinned and rolled his head, cracking his neck, Dean hid a wince at the noise.

"Not  _bond_ , no, no, no. It's not the  _bond_  I took away. He had all of his memories, he remembers  _everything_ , but there's just something that's not quite there anymore. What was it, Dean?"

"Where the hell do you get off?" Dean asked, heatedly, "are you going to fix it or not?"

"It doesn't work that way, oh no. This is  _her_  house," the Entity jerked a thumb back at Billie, "but you're talking about  _my_  domain. What is it that you want me to fix?"

"Our bond!"

"No."

"I-"

"Don't  _lie_  to me, Dean. Come on. You know  _exactly_  what's missing. You know what I want to hear, so just. Say. It."

Dean was breathing heavily now, nails digging in to the flesh of his palms, his eyes burned with frustration and shame and confusion as he stared at the Entity in front of him, unyielding, waiting,  _knowing_. He hated them. Him and Billie both, it was a vicious, surging hatred that burned through him, scorching his raw nerves. But he needed them. Dean closed his eyes and exhaled long.

"He doesn't love me anymore."

The words were a betrayal. His knees buckled and hit the ground. His throat closed up and his eyes stung. He pushed back the threatening tears, but he couldn't push down the shame. He didn't open his eyes, he couldn't he couldn't bear to see their faces.

"Bingo! And he  _gets_  it. Finally, I thought that was going to take all day. My you have  _quite_  the layer of denial on you, Dean Winchester."

Dean opened his eyes as the Entity turned to Billie.

"Well that was fun," he said to Death, " _almost_  worth waking up for."

"Definitely worth me waking you up for," Billie replied.

Dean raised his head, that searing hatred urging him to run for the scythe and end both of them.

"Are you gonna fix it?" Dean growled through his teeth.

"Hmmmmm," the Entity said, tilting his head that was both like, and so unlike, Cas, "if you want me to."

"Really?" Dean didn't like that smirk,

"Oh yeah, but just so you know. Putting something back vs taking something away… hmmm, well, you see, it can cause… problems, yes? Memory loss, memory  _distortion_  and of course, it would hurt, it would hurt a lot. Possibly on and off for the rest of his… seemingly eternal life. There are all  _sorts_  of things that can go wrong when inserting something so… unnecessary. Are you sure it's what you want? Hmmm? For your own peace of mind?"

Dean felt all of his organs drop into his feet. He forced himself to stand, staring at the creature that had Cas' features, but not his face. He couldn't even begin to fathom his own expression but it seemed to amuse both of the cosmic beings greatly. He felt defeated, his shoulders sagged forward of their own accord and he walked forward slowly, head bowed, stepping around the Entity and placing his hands on Billie's desk.

"Wake me up," he said, trying not to think of the way his voice cracked. Hating this, hating them, hating everything.

_***_

" _I'm surrounded by friends who care about me and who I care about. Yes, I'm happy."_

_***_

Billie said nothing, she seemed to think he had suffered enough. She raised her hand.

 

_***_

 

Dean woke, gulping in the foul air, his chest still bleeding profusely. Clearly, Billie had only healed him enough to live, not enough for him not to be in pain. Jack was nowhere to be seen, nor was the wendigo.

"Crap."

Dean rolled himself onto his knees and began to crawl, his pack was still on his back somehow. Dean hacked a cough and spat out a gobbet of blood. He might not die today but he definitely had internal injuries. He moaned as each shuffling movement sent waves of dizziness and nausea through his head and spikes of pain through his chest. Damn Billie, hadn't he entertained her enough to give him a full fix? It was nothing that Cas couldn't fix but…

He stopped the thought dead, pressing a hand to his face, a hand filthy with mud and blood and possibly old meat and puke. He gave himself thirty seconds of despair, then he wiped what he could with his sleeve, and once again began crawling slowly towards the cave mouth.

It seemed to take years just to get to the unnatural overhang of leaves, Dean pushed through it, it felt thicker than it should be but the air was sweet on the other side and he gulped it in greedily before collapsing face first into the dirt. He wheezed, one of his lungs wasn't working properly, at least three of his ribs were broken, he could only see red out of one of his eyes and he felt all kinds of awful. He should send out a prayer to Cas, tell him what happened, tell him he didn't know where Jack was, if the wendigo had gotten him, that he was sorry. He should just freaking  _die_  already.

He lay there for he didn't know how long, his breath slowing, in too much pain to sleep but too exhausted to stay awake he just lay. It was still daylight, still slightly cool. The chill was pleasant, almost numbing but not quite, not enough.

Eventually, he heard the crashing of foliage, bushes flung aside, Dean's hand went to the waistband of his jeans by instinct and he pulled out his gun, pointing it in the direction of the sounds, it wouldn't work on a wendigo, but it was all he had.

"Dean!"

It was Sam, wrenching his way through a tangle of briar in the straightest path he could manage to his brother, Jack was close behind him, the dense thorns more of a challenge for him. Cas made his way around the briar, his head twisting in every direction, searching for Dean. Dean's gun dropped from his lifeless fingers.

"Sam," he croaked as his brother reached him, immediately inspecting his wounds. "I don't know what - Jack - I was – I'm sorry."

"Shh, don't talk, it's okay. I've got you, we're here. Cas!"

The angel hurried his pace and knelt next to Sam. Gently prodding at the torn flesh.

"You're lucky I'm an angel," Cas said gruffly, placing two fingers to Dean's temple. Warmth engulfed him, embraced him, coursed through him and Dean's breathing eased, his chest closed, his eye cleared and Dean sat up,

"The wendigo?"

"I, err… I killed it," Jack said, "the blowtorch you threw down kind of came over to be so while it was… distracted, I put it to the back of its head," he blanched, "I thought you were… you were bleeding a lot and I didn't think you were breathing. I ran to get help," he gestured at the two kneeling figures, biting his lip. Dean almost smiled at the uncertainty in the kids face.

"Well done, Jack. You did good," he said. Jack looked pleased and surprised. Dean stood, shrugging off Sam's help and rolled his shoulders. "Thanks, Cas," he said to the angel, meeting his eye.

"Of course," Cas said mildly, with a small nod. Dean's own smile faltered slightly. He patted Sam on the shoulder and together, the four of them headed back the way they had come. Sam insisted on driving, despite Dean's protests. ("I'm fine, Sam! Cas healed me with his angel mojo, you don't get more fixed up than that,") so Dean sulked in the passenger seat, looking forward to a hot dinner, followed by a hot shower. He didn't hold out much hope for the restful night of sleep, but he'd take what he could get. They ate at a cheap roadside diner, Dean was instantly cheered when he saw they had pie and managed to get through three full slices before admitting defeat. Jack too, ate heartily, he seemed more enthused by the experience after the fact than he had during, but Dean supposed that made sense. The hunt had been a short one, and although Sam seemed annoyed that they wouldn't have a chance to actually look around the park, the general mood was high. They joked with each other and Dean and Jack kept trying to come out with increasingly impossible tales for the adventure. Sam tried to join in, saying that he and Cas had encountered a very angry gazelle that had chased Cas halfway around the forest. When Cas frowned and denied that anything of the sort had happened, the rest of the table dissolved into laughter and although the angel seemed confused as to the source of their mirth, his face softened, happy to contribute.

 

_***_

 

When they got back to the motel, Dean caught Cas' arm as the other two headed in the direction of their rooms. The angel turned to look at him, those blue eyes searching for something of concern.

"Hey, Cas," Dean said, licking his lips and rubbing the back of his neck with his other hand. "If I err… tonight. You know, if I…"

"You mean if you have another nightmare?" There was no judgement in that gaze, nothing that could explain the shame and guilt twisting at him.

"Err, yeah. Well, if I – accidentally pray to you. Don't answer, okay?"

The angel frowned.

"If you like I can watch over you as you sleep. An angel's presence can help to calm bad dreams. You could really use the rest, I don't mind-"

"No." Dean said, perhaps a little too quickly. "That'd be weird. Just… I'm okay, you'll know I'm not really hurt. There's no need to answer if I call, okay?"

Cas narrowed his eyes, frown deepening.

"If that's truly what you wish."

"Yeah, it is. And err, I'm sorry in advance if I do, you know, bother you or whatever."

"It's no bother, Dean." The angel said. Dean turned and walked away, he couldn't stand looking into those eyes,  _knowing_. Knowing that something else should be there, but he was the only one to see that it was missing. It shouldn't bother him so much, he knew. He'd just had a long day, and a bad one. He'd  _died_  for God's sake. He was entitled to be a bit… overwhelmed. But the idea that Cas had lost a part of himself, he'd lost  _that_  part of himself, and wasn't any worse off for it. Well that just… kinda sucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you think?  
> Did I manage to pull it off? I was pretty worried about the whole 'confession' scene because I really wanted it to stay true to Dean, but we've never seen him pushed that hard to emote by anyone other than someone Dean already cares about, so having him pushed to it by enemies was really hard to capture.   
> On the bright side, the Entity and Billie were super fun to write, particularly the Entity, I just really loved the voice Misha put on, it was so creepy and flamboyant. 
> 
> All feedback will be raised with love in a free-range pasture.
> 
> Love Tibbins xx


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's excited for the new episode? ME! I am!  
> I needed to finish this fic before I watched it though. So I can start clean with new plot bunnies to shamelessly murder.  
> Enjoy ^_^

"Dean Winchester." _The voice was soft, no more than a pulse of light in the shadow of the rack. Dean ignored the voice, he was too busy learning, this pain was much more potent than the one of a few minutes before, far more intense, far_ worse _. Yes. Alistair was right to teach him this, it was_ delightful _._

"Come with me."

 _That wasn't Alistair's voice. It wasn't a voice that Dean recognised. He strained against the hooks holding his shoulders in place, confused; Alistair calmed him with a few strokes of the knife. The pulse of light glowed brighter, Alistair turned his head, frowning, it was a strange light, not like the blood and shadows dimness he was used to now. The light made him squint, it was too bright, too solid, too_ pure _. Alistair cursed with rage and spun away from Dean, advancing towards the light, a snarl in his throat._

_The light tossed him back easily, away, far away._

"Come with me _,"_

_The light reached out a tendril to him, it solidified into a hand. Dean arched away from the light, it burned his eyes, it was something new, something that had thrown Alistair like a rag doll, it couldn't be anything good. It was here for him._

"Dean, _" the voice said._

" _No!" Dean howled the word, straining, tearing himself at the hooks, trying to escape, to flee, to find Alistair, he would explain, then he would go back to teaching. "Please, no."_

"Stop, _" the hand of light gestured and the hooks were gone, the rack was behind him and he was on the floor, sobbing. Demons came running in then and the light seemed to pause._

"Dean, _" the light said, "_ come with me, _"_

" _No." Dean moaned, he scrambled back, away from the light, "I don't – You can't,"_

_Then the light was behind him, the tendril across his chest, the hand gripping his shoulder, burning him, branding him, fusing him to the light. This, pain. This was what he knew; he leaned into it, hoping for more. The hand gripped him tight, pressing him backwards into the solid light, it was at once warm and cool and comforting. Dean hated it._

_His mind was foggy, the demons rushed at them._

"I claim this soul," _the light announced, the voice different now, booming, sweeping throughout the entirety of Hell, the demons halting in their charge,_ "I, Castiel, claim Dean Winchester."

 _Dean blinked, not understanding. Then, the light raised another tendril at the demons and more brightness pulsed from it, power radiated from the light as some of the demons fell, eyes burned from their skulls, others jumped back with howls of rage. The light_ leapt _, and they flew._

" _No," Dean whimpered, "take me back,"_

_The light's grip shifted slightly, as though it was studying him, curious._

"Dean, _" it said, the softness back, wrapping around him, cleansing, welcoming, hateful, "_ you've suffered enough _."_

" _No, please."_

_A high, keening scream emanated from the light, it vibrated with a fierce joy, a protectiveness, a triumph, and although Dean didn't understand the language, he felt the words reverberating in his very core. It was the most beautiful and the most terrible thing he had ever heard._

"Dean Winchester is saved."

 

_***_

 

Dean woke with a start and immediately glanced at the clock. It was nearly 6am. He'd slept longer than he had the past few nights, not that he felt any more rested for it. Dean wiped at his mouth where some drool had trickled down his chin and made his way to the bathroom. His legs were steady, but his stomach was clenching. He'd never dreamed  _that_  before. He never remembered the moment he had been taken from Hell. He'd thought he must've been unconscious at the time, or that Cas had removed it; after all, humans weren't supposed to see what angels really looked like, right? That's what had happened to Pamela. But maybe that figure of light hadn't been Cas' true form either, maybe it was somewhere in between Jimmy Novak and full on wave of celestial intent. Dean splashed some water on his face.

He had begged to go _back_ , God, he was pathetic. Of course, it could have just been an actual, figment of his imagination dream. But Dean thought that he had the relevant experience by now to be able to tell the difference between a land of chocolate dream and a  _memory_.

At least he hadn't been screaming. He hoped he hadn't called to Cas either, but there was no helping that now. Dean braced his hands on the side of the sink and looked at his reflection. He was a mess, his cheeks were sunken and his eyes were ringed by dark circles. His shirt was soaked through with sweat and beginning to chill. He shivered and tossed his clothes aside, stepping into the shower.

 

_***_

 

After breakfast at the nearby diner, the four of them once again climbed into the Impala, ready for the long trip home. Jack curled up on the backseat, chin on his knees, though he didn't seem to want to sleep yet, he was content to gaze out of the window and watch the passing houses and fields. Sam leaned back, yawning, taking up as much space as he physically could with a long, cracking stretch. Castiel sat passively behind Sam, eyes far away and thoughtful. Dean stared at the road, trying to use the familiarity of driving to draw all his focus, clear his mind. Meditation was bullshit, driving was all he needed. He ignored the concerned looks Sam tossed at him and batted away his offer to drive. By hour three, the car had relaxed, caught up in the monotony of the open road. Dean's mind was less like a tumble dryer now, though his eyes itched. Although his dream had been marginally less terrible than previous nights, it also disturbed him the most. It wasn't any of the years from Hell that he remembered, it was something  _new_. It was the moment that the celestial being sitting in the back seat had begun to fall.

 

_***_

" _When Castiel first laid a hand on you in Hell, he was_   _lost!"_

_***_

 

A wave of guilt broke over him and he gripped the wheel tighter, Sam and Jack had started up a conversation which Cas occasionally added to but Dean wasn't listening. He needed to focus on the road, on the journey. Baby purring away around him, the background chatter of his brother, a closed case behind him, home ahead. That was all he needed in life. Wasn't it? He glanced in the rear-view mirror at Cas, who had was chuckling at something Sam had said. Cas looked up and met his eye in the reflection with a fond smile, Dean looked away.

It really was true that you never noticed how much you rely on something until it was gone. It shouldn't make a difference. It  _didn't_ make a difference. Cas was perfectly happy, he had  _said_  so. He pushed Billie's words out of his head. He'd get over it, it's not like anything had  _really_  changed. Cas wasn't evil, he didn't hate them, he wasn't avoiding them or pretending to be God. He was still just… Cas. And the fact that Sam didn't seem to have noticed anything was up, well that just confirmed it. Nothing was wrong. It wasn't even different.

 

_***_

" _He doesn't love me anymore."_

_***_

 

Dean pressed down on the gas for a couple of seconds to refocus himself, then he eased up. He  _was_  tired. He almost considered pulling over and asking Sam to drive but as much as he loved it when Sammy's eyebrows shot up into his hair, if he did fall asleep he wouldn't be able to hide his nightmares in this small a space, despite what Cas said about his presence being able to help. He wasn't going to risk it.

His own words, his own admission, kept rolling around his brain like a goddamn bingo ball. He had known what that spark was. He had known that their bond was something else, just as strong but ultimately no more precious than his bond with Sam. But that connection, that understanding between them? How could they have that again without the underlying feeling that accompanied it? But beneath that question, underneath the uncomfortable feeling of even acknowledging the connection, Dean was angry. He wasn't even sure who he was angry at. The Entity? Cas? Himself?  _How_  could this happen? More specifically, how could this happen without distorting Cas' memories at all? Isn't that what their whole… thing was built on? Their history, their partnership, the quiet moments and the gigantic obstacles. All the mistakes and the apologies and the fights and the forgiveness. How could Cas remember all that and  _not_  feel the same? How could he remember their connection without feeling it?

Had it really been so easy to take that away?

"Dean?"

Dean blinked,

"Yeah?"

"What do you think?"

Dean glanced at his brother, suddenly aware that the car had gone silent.

"'Bout what?"

"About teaching Jack to drive."

"Not in Baby."

"Baby?" Jack asked,

"The car," Sam explained before turning back to Dean, "It's a useful life skill, Dean, and we don't exactly have anything else to focus on right now."

"If you wanna teach the kid to drive, Sam, that's fine. But he's not driving Baby. Only  _I_ drive Baby."

"I've driven her before, Dean," Sam said, heatedly.

"I haven't," Cas grumbled.

"Yeah,  _you_  drive her when I'm dead, Sam. And the first time _that_  happened, you added a freaking iPod jack. I don't trust you with her. And you-" he declared, pointing backwards at the angel, "I taught Sam how to drive, when did you get a license? You just showed up with your own car one time. I definitely do not trust you in her driver's seat."

"And me?" Jack piped up, looking afraid but not wanting to be left out.

"If you hurt Baby I would break your jaw," Dean said flatly, "I'll steal you another car, kid, it's safer for all of us. Sam can teach you to drive in that."

"Actually," Sam said, after a short pause, "I thought  _you_  could teach him."

Dean snorted, "me? Why?"

"You do have the most experience. Seeing as you insist on driving all of the time." Cas said sardonically. He sounded irritated, and not because he'd never driven Baby.

"Blow me, Cas."

Cas fell into a huffy silence.

"Sam'll teach you better," Dean said to Jack. "I don't have the patience for it."

 

_***_

 

Dean pulled over at the halfway point and they all piled out, grateful for the food. The last few hours had been tense. Dean knew he'd been getting increasingly snappy whenever any of the others spoke to him and he supposed he should apologise. He caught a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror and grimaced. His eyes were red and squinting. The circles underneath them darker than before. He  _should_  ask Sam to drive. But those nightmares…

He settled for splashing more water on his face and heading out to wait by the car while Sam paid the bill and bought some pastries that they could eat in the final leg of the journey. Cas was already by the Impala, leaning against her door. He frowned at Dean.

"You're not driving."

"I'm fine."

"You're being reckless. You might fight monsters Dean, but that doesn't make you immune to car accidents."

"Yeah. I'm aware of that, thanks."

He remembered watching himself lying in a hospital bed, attached to tubes and monitors while Sam hunched in a chair by his side. At the same time their father was busy trading his soul for Dean's. Dean ran a hand down his face. He glanced over at Cas. Without meeting his eyes, Dean could almost kid himself that nothing had changed, almost.

"I can't sleep," he said.

"I can fix that." Castiel raised two fingers, Dean ducked away from them before they could touch his head.

"No, I mean… I might… talk."

"My presence can help with that too."

"Maybe once."

"What do you mean by that?"

Dean shrugged, regretting the hasty words.

Cas frowned, "Dean, you've been acting strangely around me ever since I got back. What is wrong with you? You haven't been sleeping, you won't accept my help, every time you look at me it's like you're in pain. What is it?"

"Nothing's wrong, Cas. I'm just having more bad dreams than normal, that's all."

"Dean,"

"No, you know what? Gimme a break, okay? I'm functioning on about four hours of nightmare fuelled crazy and, oh yeah, I  _died_  yesterday, so just, I can't deal with this right now. I'm not gonna cry on your shoulder and tell you all of my problems, okay? Because it doesn't matter. Because you're happy, right?"

Cas stared at him. Dean swallowed hard, forcing himself to hold the angel's gaze. The gaze without that feeling between them. The one that fused them together, made him feel like they could do anything, beat anything. The one that understood and  _knew_. They had had their own space, their own language, and it was written when their eyes met.

"You died?"

"What?" Dean's eyes widened as he realised what he just said, "no,  _almost_. Almost died, that son of a bitch got me good."

"Hmm…" Cas hummed. And Dean was reminded of the Entity, although the tone was completely off, "and that's the second time you've asked me whether or not I'm happy."

"Whatever, man, just get in the damn car." Dean pulled open the driver's door as Sam and Jack emerged, arms full of pastry boxes. But his ass never reached the seat. He felt two fingers pressing into his temple, and then nothing.

 

_***_

 

When Dean came to, he was in the backseat of Baby, staring at the initials he and his brother had carved all those years ago. His head, he realised, was in Cas' lap and he sat upright immediately with a groan.

"-the hell?"

Castiel turned to him, a small crease between his eyes, though it wasn't without humour.

"I made an executive decision. You should have slept longer, no matter, we're nearly there."

Jack twisted around from the passenger seat,

"You were whimpering. It was a strange noise to hear coming from you."

"Jack," Sam chided gently. The boy turned back to face the front.

Dean raised a groggy finger towards Cas.

"Don't do that again."

"You needed the sleep. And I was right, you did sleep better."

"Not the point."

Cas just rolled his eyes.

"You've been out for just over six hours, Dean. How do you feel?" Sam asked.

"Like I landed on my ass about six hours ago."

Truthfully though, he did feel a little better. The soreness around his eyes was gone and he wasn't drenched in sweat, which was a bonus. He hadn't had pleasant dreams exactly, but they had been less vivid. Even now he could feel them slipping from his memory. Dean shuffled his butt over to the seat behind Sam and leaned on the cool glass. They  _were_  close to the bunker, maybe twenty minutes away at a guess. Dean huffed and settled down, ignoring Sam's chuckle.

"You drive like an old lady," he grumbled.

"If by that you mean I actually stop at stop signs, sure." Sam retorted.

Dean fell silent until he got to the bunker. Then he grabbed a beer from the fridge on the way in and headed straight to his room. He had barely taken the first sip when someone knocked on his door. Dean was about to tell whoever it was to shove it but Cas was inside before he could. The angel stood over him, staring intently.

"What do you want, Cas? Haven't we talked enough for one day?"

"We didn't finish our conversation. I want to know why you've been acting oddly."

"I'm an odd guy, you can ask anyone."

"Dean," Cas said in a tone that sliced through his bullshit, "enough. I'm done acting like you're okay, like you're just tired. Something is bringing on these nightmares, something is making you look that way,"

"What way?"

Cas' frown deepened.

"I don't know how to describe it, but it's like… it's like you  _miss_  something. Like you're grieving."

"Well, my mom is in another dimension so that might have something-"

"No." Cas said, "it's not that."

"Oh, and you  _know_  do you? You can just  _tell_ , just by looking at me? Because you know me so well, right? Because of our 'profound bond'. And everything's exactly as it's always been, and it was never anything else and you're  _happy_  with that."

He said the last part mostly to himself and Cas seemed to pick up on the change in tone because his own features softened. Dean put his beer down and turned away from Cas.

"Just… give me some time, okay? I'll get there. I'll figure it out. This isn't on you."

"What isn't?" Cas was almost pleading, exasperated.

"Nothin'," Dean said, "forget it." He turned back to force a smile, to tell the angel without words, to confirm to  _himself_  that he would really try to make it work. He just needed to sort his head out. Just give him a few days. He could avoid Cas for a few days and prepare himself. He could let go of his resentment - it wasn't Cas' fault after all - and he could squash down everything else. Everything would be the way Cas remembered it. And Dean could be content with that.

Castiel stared at him for a long moment, there was frustration in those eyes, familial concern, and a touch of confusion. Then they hardened in resolve. "No."

Cas raised a hand, it was almost in slow motion, Dean saw it coming, he knew what Cas had just decided to do, he felt pure fear spike through him at the sight of the approaching hand, he tried to scramble away but he couldn't move,

"Cas," he said, he saw the angel hesitate at his tone, at whatever he saw in his own eyes, "Cas, please don't,"

Then the palm was on his forehead and he let out a yell. Memories flashed in front of him, Cas' eyes burned with grace, shooting Jack in the shoulder, Missouri, Sean, Sam handing him a beer, plunging a syringe into his heart and pressing down on the plunger, Billie, showing up, getting a phone call, hearing a voice, and everything that had happened after, too fast for him to process it all, or really any of it. Then, it was over and Cas reeled back, Dean gasping like he'd just been underwater.

"Dean, I-"

"Get out." His voice was soft. He barely registered the fact that he was trembling. Cas had looked through his memories, he had just  _seen_. He… he felt violated, stripped bare. He couldn't hide now, Cas knew everything, there was no going back to normal, no trying to make things work. No amount of time could change what Cas had done. Cas didn't move.

"I said get out!" Dean roared.

Instead, strong arms wrapped around him. Dean tried to yank himself away but Cas pulled him into his chest one arm bracing his torso, the other laid itself protectively on the back of his head. It was too much for Dean. Everything, what Cas had just done, what he had lost, his nightmares, everything he had experienced in the past few weeks just came crashing into him all at once. So Dean let Cas hold him, he even felt his own hands gripping the front of the angel's shirt, though he wasn't sure when that had happened. Hot tears spilled from his eyes and his shoulders shook with quiet sobs.

He shouldn't be doing this. He didn't deserve this comfort. He couldn't even keep himself together. He couldn't just  _accept_  his friend's happiness. He had to be selfish, he had to make it all about  _him_  and how it was different for  _him_ , without thinking that Cas might actually notice and cause him to  _look_. Bile rose in his throat. He was revolted with himself. He should just leave, he should just take the Impala and go, call Sam every so often, Hunt on his own. Things would be so much easier. Cas was tracing soothing circles on his back. Flushed with shame, Dean finally pushed Cas away. He didn't look at the angel, instead he stared at the floor.

"Look, Cas. We don't have to talk about this. Not ever. In fact, I'd rather we didn't, okay? Looking into my mind was a dick move, so just forget what you saw, forget it. It doesn't matter."

"Dean-"

Dean held up a hand without turning his head.

"I'm not going to talk about this. You should go."

"Dean, look at me."

Dean's eyes flicked to the side and then away again.

"I can't. Not right now."

"Dammit Dean,"

Suddenly, Cas was crouching in front of him, forcing Dean to meet his eyes, Dean tried to close his eyes, turn his head away, but a gentle hand was on his chin, and he couldn't help it. Green met blue.

They stared at each other wordlessly for what felt like years.

"How?" Dean finally choked out.

The angel smiled, "how can I not? Seeing how you saw me, how you remembered me.  _Feeling_  it. How can I not love you?"

"I-"

" _Thank you,_ " Cas whispered, almost reverently. "I needed to be reminded. I needed  _this_." Cas cupped Dean's face between his palms and raised himself up onto his knees, they were almost at eye level, Cas leaned forward slowly and brushed his lips against the Hunter's. It was chaste and soft, barely a breath of a kiss. It was nothing short of cosmic. Dean closed his eyes for the few brief seconds, then opened them again when Cas stood, taking a half-step back. Dean simply stared. He had no words, only wonder. Cas looked down at him, a pink tinge to his cheeks.

"My apologies," he said. "I know we have an… agreement. I'll, er…" He turned to leave,

"Cas," Dean called. Castiel turned back, "we could always… renegotiate." Dean said. He felt the fierce heat in his neck as he said the words, but the embarrassment was worth the chuckle it elicited from Cas. Cas came and sat next to him on the bed. Then, without needing to ask, without needing to be told, they both lay down next to each other, Dean curled up in the angel's arms. Dean could feel the flutter of Cas' grace beneath the surface of his vessel. It wasn't quite a heartbeat, but it was something more comforting. Dean felt his eyes begin to droop. Naturally this time, no angel mojo necessary. Cas held him close. Dean felt the press of lips on his cheek and the soft words as he drifted off into a finally dreamless sleep.

"I'll watch over you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you think? 
> 
> I think I might have lost Dean's character a little bit after Cas looked into his memories but I really wasn't sure how he'd react. Do you agree? Disagree? All feedback makes me better and keeps me writing.
> 
> Did you like the fluffy ending? I just wanted them to spoon dammit! 
> 
> Love Tibbins xx

**Author's Note:**

> So what do you think? Did I manage to capture the subtlety of the changes? I'm unsure.  
> Feedback is always, always welcome, appreciated and treasured. 
> 
> Love Tibbins xx


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